Time Isn't Ours
by NotAWeakHarryPotter
Summary: People covet time. Over centuries, many have devoted their lives in a futile attempt to unravel its secrets, to gain immortality and more. Most of them don't understand that Time doesn't stop for anyone and keeps going. One must seize the day – Carpe Diem, and live every day as their last. AU! Where Harry is battling cancer and Voldemort isn't retarded


Prologue – Pre Hogwarts

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to Harry Potter (Although I wish I did), and I am simply borrowing J.K Rowling's characters.

A scrawny three-year-old toddler sat in the dark, hidden in the cupboard under the stairs. As he sat, he strained to hear what was happening outside. It had been so long since he had seen light or had any contact with the outside. The toddler listened on, hearing squeals of joy and wondering what it would be like to be so happy. He was confused as to why nobody played with him like the child outside, why nobody fed him food when he was hungry and why nobody loved him. He wondered what it would be like to be free.

Whenever a flap opened and let the light in, the toddler would walk towards the light and grab the food that was shoved in. Sometimes it burned him, causing blisters to form. He learned quickly not to touch the hands that left food for him – any human contact would result in the toddler crying due to an obese and overweight man pummeling him with his fists. Once a day, the toddler would be let out of the cupboard to do his business for three minutes but was immediately ushered back in his prison after the three minutes were up.

This cycle continued until the scrawny toddler became a thin and tiny preschooler. When he turned five, it was the first time he was let out of the cupboard for more than three minutes. The lights blinded him and made him dizzy, causing him to stumble around like a drunk man walking home. He was immediately grabbed and forced to cook, clean and garden for his aunt and their family. This preschooler was Harry Potter.

From this moment onwards, the Harry would wake up in his cupboard under the stairs at four AM in the morning to cook bacon, eggs and toast the bread for his "generous benefactors". The tiny preschooler would then hop on a bus and ride to St. Gregory's Primary School, where he would be bullied by his cousin, Dudley Dursley, and his gang of friends. When the bus dropped him and Dudley back home, Harry would immediately grab the gardening tools from the shed to mow the lawn, trim the hedge surrounding the property, and water the plants. After completing all his chores, Harry was then allowed to eat his dinner, his first meal.

At a young age, Harry knew that his life was different from other children. When parents came to meet their child's primary school teacher, Harry was left behind at home, locked in his cupboard. While Harry was gardening and doing chores around the house, Dudley got new toys and played with them in the yard. Harry wore baggy clothing with rips and tears paired with broken spectacles while other kids got clothing that fit them and new glasses every time they broke. Other children were praised, and the only thing that Harry got was hostile glares.

But Harry endured.

He endured the iron skillet that smashed into his head and cracked his skull when he overcooked the bacon and burnt it a tad bit. He endured the blood that flowed from his skin as it was being flayed off his back by his uncle's belt. He endured his uncle's fists hitting his ribs, his chest, and his head.

He never once made a sound.

That only served to encourage the Dursleys to abuse their ward, until one day when Harry's head rolled back and dropped to the ground with a sickening crack in his cupboard. Nobody noticed until a whole day later when Petunia Dursley woke to a lack of breakfast.

Petunia stormed her way to her nephew's cupboard, hollering, "Get your lazy arse up now, Harry! Who do you think you are, acting as if you are part of this family! You're nothing but a freak, and freaks don't get privileges like sleeping in! You should be glad we gave you a roof over your head so come out and cook that bloody breakfast now!" When she received no meek response to her scathing remarks, Petunia grabbed the keys from the kitchen and undid the cupboard door's lock.

What Petunia saw shocked her to her core. Crimson fluid flowed and ebbed from Harry's body and began to harden and crust, sticking to her precious wooden floor. A pang of sympathy struck Petunia, but she ruthlessly quashed it, opting to instead check if her scrawny nephew was still alive. Shaking mutely, she walked over to the still lying figure, nude and uncovered in the middle of the tiny bed, curled up in a fetal position. Petunia extended her trembling hand and felt Harry's neck feeling for a pulse. It was faint. Petunia screamed in horror and feel to the ground, waking the Dursley household and placing them on full alert.

She may not have liked the boy, but deep inside Petunia always loved the boy. Being a mother herself, she would've never wished this kind of pain and torture upon anyone, much less a boy who was seven years old.

Vernon quickly descended the stairs, his heavy body causing reverberations around the house. He was worried for his wife, and damn it to hell if it was the freak's fault. When he found Petunia, laying on the floor, her white nightdress soaking up the blood like a hungry vampire. Vernon rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you're crying and screaming over this freak, Petunia. This boy has been nothing more than an annoyance. He uses up our money, and you know that I've recently been laid off from Grunnings! I don't have much money left …!"

"For the four of us," interjected Petunia. "Harry is part of our family too. He doesn't deserve this, to be beaten bloody because you can't control your temper. You don't know what it's like to treat someone with disdain and spread rumors about them when they are your family …"

"Yes, yes," said Vernon hurriedly. "That may be so. But if you see and look at our financial reports, we don't have money saved up! We've invested it all in our little boy Petunia. He takes priority over the freak. Just look at him. He's going to die soon anyway, so just let him die, and then I'll dig him a grave in the backyard where you can bury him.

"I don't like your thinking Vernon," she said, using the edge of her voice.

"It hasn't even been a long day and already your antics are getting on my nerves," Vernon exclaimed. "Just take the boy and use up the remaining money we have! Why don't you just spit in my face and punch me in the balls while you're at it to destroy our perfect family!"

Petunia exclaimed "Fine!"

"Urruk! I meant not literally!"


End file.
